


The Goblin in the Maze

by gecko818



Series: Spiders and Spice and Everything Nice [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arachnophobia, Bickering, Child Abandonment, Family, Fluff, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Romance, corn maze, motherly hunith, ridiculous costumes, schoolteacher!merlin, shart goblin, to break up the tedium of the boring other months, yay out of season holiday fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gecko818/pseuds/gecko818
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Mrs. Godfrey's Spider" and "Your Sharks Should Give Me Some Sugar". Can be read independently.</p><p>It's Halloween, and Merlin manages to drag Arthur to his home in Ealdor to finally meet his mother. The trip doesn't exactly go as planned, what with an incident in the corn maze and a temporary, new addition to the Emrys household. Bickering. Fluff. Merthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Costumes & Packing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Hey guys! This is the third installment of "Spiders and Spice and Everything Nice" (sorry for the extreme tardiness...I haven't been feeling too well lately). I don't even know what this crack chapter is, but I guess you can have it.
> 
> If you haven't read the previous (two short) stories, this one may be read independently. I think most things are explained in the story. Granted, I do have some continuances from last time that might be more fun if you have read the previous two.

"Sit tight, Arthur, I've got a surprise for you," Merlin beamed as he patted his boyfriend's thigh. Before Arthur could even so much as ask what it was, Merlin was bounding off in the direction of his own bedroom, the room Arthur had been barred from entering for the last two weeks.

Smiling, Arthur leaned back into Merlin's couch and watched as the credits to a  _Friday the 13th_ movie rolled down the screen, wondering just what it was Merlin could possibly be giving him and why. It wasn't his birthday, nor was it Christmas; in fact, it was close to Halloween, and Merlin had already given Arthur more than he could ever want. In the last six months with Merlin, Arthur finally found someone who not only complemented him well, but also helped him shake his fear of not only terrible, but moderately terrible horror movies. Though he still had some issues with a lot of them, and there was that one slip up where Merlin put in something a lot worse than he'd remembered (Arthur made sure Merlin paid the "you-are-now-my-living-and-breathing-teddy-bear" toll), Arthur was doing better than ever. In turn, in the last six months with Arthur, Merlin had mostly overcome his anxiety regarding spiders. A few weeks prior, he had even allowed Terry to come home with Arthur and back to the flat. While the brunet still refused to so much as touch him or get within a five foot radius of the terrarium, he accepted the tarantula's presence with wariness (with only occasional fretting about whether or not the arachnid could escape). Regardless, Arthur was proud of him. He went from crummy movies to documentaries to Arthur's constant cellphone pics to allowing one in the flat in five months. Sooner or later, he'd come to terms with Terry altogether, and Arthur hoped he could soon show Merlin just how friendly a spider Terry was.

Merlin walked back into the room slowly, clearly hiding something behind his back and out Arthur's line of sight. Approaching his boyfriend, Merlin deftly dropped to one knee before him on the couch. "Arthur Pendragon—"

"Woah, woah, woah, Merlin, don't you think this is a little fast? It's only been—"

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Shut up you egg and let me finish." Merlin cleared his throat as Arthur sighed. "Now, I, Merlin Emrys, after much tribulation, bequeath you, Arthur Pendragon, with a sword fit for a king." He extended his arms above his head, which was bowed low in mock reverence, palms proffering what appeared to be a blood-stained machete. As Arthur began to grab it, Merlin elaborated, "Okay, it's really a paper mache machete, but I thought—"

"Wait, paper mache?" Arthur asked, picking up the machete. "You made this out of paper mache?"

"I mean, yeah, I made it. Some paint helped, too, but I thought—"

Arthur carefully lifted his surprise and carefully examined the paint job. If he wasn't physically holding the thing and didn't know what it was made of (and were at a relatively short, but indiscriminate distance), he might have been convinced that it was the real deal. "This is amazing, Merlin, I didn't know you could make something like this."

Merlin sighed and shook his head, looking up at Arthur from the floor, who was still toying around with his new gift. "Have you forgotten? I teach second graders. I'm a pro at paper mache. Anyway, I thought you might like it as part of a costume? I know you never really celebrated before – let alone dressed up – but I thought since I forced you to sit through all these  _Friday the 13ths_ that you could dress up as Jason when we go to Ealdor for Halloween? I've got the other stuff, too, if you'd like."

"I, uh, sure, I guess?" Arthur shrugged, toying with the fake machete. "Wait, what are you going to be then?"

"Brilliant!" Merlin slapped both his hands on the blond's knees. "And I wasn't planning on showing you until we got there, but I kind of have to get it into the car and you'd have to see it anyway…Give me a second." Pulling himself up using Arthur as a solid base, Merlin scampered back in the direction of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Chuckling, Arthur placed the fake blade on the coffee table in front of him, stood, and walked to the Merlin's bedroom door. Knocking, he teased, "So is this why you haven't let me in here for the last two weeks?"

"Uh huh!" Merlin called from the other side of the door.

"I thought you'd gone and abandoned me for some sex slave you'd kept tied to the bed," Arthur laughed as he leaned against the wall.

There was a thump against wood, and Merlin swore. "Urk, now why would I have gone and done that? That's what I have  _you_ for. Besides, having to keep him tied to the bed  _all the time?_ Such a bore. Not nearly versatile enough. That and I think all the toys are at yours."

"You've got to be joking, Merlin. You've nothing over here? You know, all work and no play makes Merlin a dull boy."

"You can't see me right now, but I can guarantee my smile is cracking my face in half with pride, Mr. Pendragon. And no play? There's always yours. And uh, you know, the kids. They give me quite the run around. I know this may be news to you," Merlin began with his slow, powdered voice employed only when he thought Arthur was being a bit daft. "But I'll have you know that one doesn't become a paper mache master by doing their tax returns."

As Arthur chuckled and leaned against the wall, he heard another thud from the room, followed shortly by a sharp yelp. "Merlin are you getting into a costume or a clusterfuck? And if you're dressing up as a sexy nurse or something, you'd better rethink those tights. You're not giving a credit to your pretend profession with all those bruises I know you're getting."

"Oh but doctor!" Merlin cried in his highest, most ridiculous falsetto before he bit back a grin and continued with his deepest monotone, "Won't you kiss it better?"

The blond slid down the wall, laughing heartily. "Oh my god, you're such a freak."

"You know it, and you love it. Close your eyes and turn around. Trust me, this will wow you. I'm much sexier than any sexy nurse you've ever seen."

"I don't know, Merlin. I've been to a  _lot_ of frat parties," Arthur called as he swiveled on his heel and turned to face the wall opposite, decorated with framed children's drawings and paintings, some of which addressed "Mr. Emrys" in oversized, occasionally stuttered handwriting that was still leagues neater than that of most of the adults Arthur knew who tried to pass their unintelligible scrawl off as written communication. Arthur's eyes settled on a surprisingly aesthetically pleasing crayon drawing of a gold dragon that made a heavy-handed—and all the more endearing for it—attempt at shading with a brown crayon. He scanned over a bunch of pictures that mimicked fairy tales before encountering one that depicted an aquarium full of colorful fish, which were composed by the union of triangles and ovals, and what he could only assume was a shark, whose exaggerated open-mouthed, blue-outlined jagged jaws extended towards an unsuspecting, smiling violet victim.

Arthur could hear Merlin approach the bedroom door as several objects clattered the the floor, knocking against the wood and plaster upon their descent. "Arthur your eyes better be closed!"

"What, so I can't see whatever disaster you've caused in there?" Arthur snorted, turning his attention to a few landscape watercolors that were so damp upon conception that even the compressing frames couldn't smooth out their waves. "And no, I'm admiring your students' artwork over here!"

Merlin turned the doorknob and cracked the door open a hair. "Prove it. Tell me about one."

The blond scanned across the dozens of pictures before settling on one with a non-generic name. "Matilda. A little girl named Matilda painted you a very lovely blue...dog?"

"It's a horse, but I suppose you pass the test." Merlin opened the door and scuttled out sideways, pulling in as much of his costume as he could manage in the cramped hallway. "Okay, okay, you can turn around."

To humor his boyfriend, Arthur closed his eyes before turning around and waited for exasperated permission to open them before doing so. Arthur stared at his boyfriend a solid five seconds before laughing and shaking his head. Here was Merlin, squished into a hilariously terrible spider costume, complete with two bulbous sections that were supposed to be a spider's body and eight protruding legs (half of which were Merlin's own limbs—half of which were improperly sticking out of the abdomen). "Oh my god, Merlin, what did you even use for the material?" Arthur asked, pointing at the brown, gaudy, shaggy material that comprised the entire costume.

Merlin hummed and smiled, giving one of his legs an appraising, self-admiring stroke. "You remember that furniture store that recently went out of business?" Merlin asked with an eyebrow quirked, waiting for Arthur's quick nod of the head before continuing, "Well, they had a ridiculous amount of these awful shaggy bath mats..."

"You mean like the kind you have in your bathroom? The blue one?" the blond interrupted.

"Yes! Exactly like that one. Only that one is  _teal._.." Merlin ignored Arthur's eye roll. "Anyway, so they just had a  _ton of these things,"_ Merlin said as he splayed his hands wide apart to indicate the thick stack he encountered that day, "and they were only a couple of dollars each...And it just, I just, I couldn't help it.  _I had to, Arthur._ "

Arthur laughed harder as he reached out and stroked the soft material along Merlin's chest. "So you make a machete out of paper and anatomically incorrect spider costumes out of bath mats in your free time. Is there anything else I should know about you,  _Mer_ lin?"

"Anatomically incorrect? I'll have you know I did my research!* This, for example," Merlin began as he lifted his left arm, "is the Creepy Leg. Right below it? The Lung Snatcher. Over here..." Merlin lowered his left and brandished his right as he made a 'blade' out of his hand. "This, now this right here is my Heart Piercer!" He jabbed in Arthur's direction before dissolving into laughter.

Sucking in a breath, Arthur tried to maintain his composure amidst the absurdity. "What's that one called?" He asked, pointing to Merlin's left leg.

"Leg Number Eight," Merlin returned between laughs.

"And that one?" the blond pointed to the right this time.

"That's my Dancing Leg!" Merlin broke into a lame jig, his fake limbs slapping against the wall with every ill-advised move.

Arthur finally lost it with a snort followed by peals of laughter. "Remind me to never take you anywhere ever," he teased.

"Why? Because I'll totally upstage you with my rad moves?" He continued dancing, using one of this bath mat upholstered limbs as a dance partner.

Arthur laughed and shot back, "No, because others would try to take you home."

"You, Mr. Pendragon, are a liar," Merlin tsked, raising an eyebrow as he lazily waggled his finger. "But you're a sweet one, so I suppose I can forgive you." Accidentally slapping Arthur with no fewer than two of the bathmat-shrouded limbs, the brunet leaned in and draped his arms over his boyfriends shoulders, resting his forehead against Arthur's own.

Arthur ran hands down Merlin's shaggy new bum, resting his hands just at the top of the exaggerated curve. "You know you just hit me like three times, right?"

"I know." Arthur felt Merlin's forehead slide up as his eyes undoubtedly lit to match that dumb smirk he had on his face.

"And that I really can't see you from this close. You make me cross-eyed."

"It's not my fault you don't wear your unbearably attractive glasses." His forehead slid back down as his mouth formed his typical pout.

Blinking away the vague multiplicity of pasty, black-mop-topped blobs that constituted his boyfriend, Arthur asked, "You think you could do this if I were wearing them?"

"Arthur, look at what I'm wearing and reevaluate your response," Merlin said as he waggled a little bit in his obnoxious costume, one leg lightly papping Arthur on the side of the face.

The blond grabbed the leg, eased himself out of Merlin's grasp, and retorted, "Merlin, it's not like you've got these hairy legs on your face."

Merlin brushed his hand against the coarse curve of Arthur's jaw and swished his mouth back and forth before saying, "I suppose not, but you do. Your stubble's prickly. And glasses or not, we'd totally manage. Might smudge them up some and try to convince you it was literally getting steamy in here though."

"Now who's the liar?" Arthur teased, shaking his head lightly.

Merlin grabbed his fake legs and returned, "Irrelevant. Anyway, mister, we've got a long trip tomorrow, and I do not believe either of us have packed."

"You would be correct," Arthur laughed. He had intended on packing the night before, but instead wound up falling asleep on his half-folded clothes that eventually mussed to form a more ideal napping surface as his night's thrashings ensued.

The two said their good nights, and Arthur returned to his own room to face the disorganized pile of clothing he had left there this morning when he realized he had slept through the alarm and was almost late to work.

With a sigh, Merlin returned to his own bedroom, which was freshly carpeted in shredded newspapers, some loose yellow-topped quilting pins that he kept discovering (regrettably with his foot opposed to his eyes), and some stray bathmat remnants, which ranged from entire, usable chunks to the disgustingly awful shredded fibers that clung to his actual carpeting. Shrugging out of his costume, Merlin let it sit in an unceremonious heap by his dresser as he examined his equally disastrous bed. Covered in more stray material on top of his unmade bedding, the bed also was home to a few loose thread spools that rolled unchecked, a hot glue gun that had adhered to his pillow, a couple of those infernal pins that made Merlin doubt his capacity to ever learn his lesson, and all the items that he had pulled out with the intent to pack.

Groaning, the brunet Godzilla-ed through his mess to reach his forlorn duffel bag that was half-mashed between his bed and nightstand on the opposite side of the room. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

After stuffing his toiletry bag into his small, red, carry-on suitcase, Arthur rolled it to the door and propped it up next to the front door of his apartment. As he backed away with his eyes on the suitcase, arms straight in front of him with hands splayed, he mouthed "stay" over and over to the case that looked like it would totter over with its unbalanced distribution. Once he had reached a good ten feet away (and backed into his couch), Arthur decided it was time to turn around, let the suitcase fall if it so desired, and go to bed.

Yawning, he stumbled into his bathroom and lazily brushed his teeth, blinking hard at his tired expression in the mirror. It was midnight, a couple hours later than he usually fell asleep, and he had gone to work early this morning to make sure everything was sured up for the next few days during his absence. After spitting, Arthur slipped out of his shirt and pants and left them in a pile on the floor. He set the alarm on his phone and fell into bed, thankful for the fact that he could sleep in the car.

* * *

Not two hours later, Arthur startled awake to the sound of something crashing in his living room. Swearing at his suitcase, Arthur rolled over and started pulling a pillow over his head when he heard another set of swears to match his own. "Merlin, dammit," he mumbled, remembering the key he had given him a few months back, and pulled the pillow fully over his head.

When his door creaked open, Arthur remained where he was and listened to the other man clumsily strip (an activity in which he  _still_ lacked any remote dexterity). Merlin finally slid into bed, marking the occasion by curling up to Arthur's back and pressing his the tops of his cold feet against Arthur's bare calves. "Sorry I woke you, can I sleep here tonight?" Merlin whispered into Arthur's hair.

"It's not like I'm going to kick you out now...Cold feet or not...How'd you know I was awake?" he asked, voice thick with sleep.

There was a slight chuckle before a quick, "You snore."

"Do not," Arthur mumbled more to the pillow than Merlin.

"Do so...And I noticed your luggage by the door..." Merlin trailed off, getting sleepy himself.

Slightly readjusting his position, Arthur replied, "By 'I noticed' you mean 'became very acquainted with as I fell all over it'."

"Hey, I fell  _alongside_ it, for your information. We fell in tandem. It was a group effort." He snaked his arm around Arthur's middle and snuggled into the blond's shoulder blade.

"Yeah? Well I hope you put it back where it belongs because I'm going on this trip to my boyfriend's hometown to meet his mother tomorrow morning."

Merlin smiled. "Your boyfriend? Sounds nice. I'll make sure to not tell him about this then."

"Good. Wouldn't want that. Why you in here anyway?" Arthur asked. Slipping into his room in the middle of the night wasn't exactly usual Merlin behavior. Normally, they slept around the same time and spent the night in whichever apartment they were currently occupying, together or not.

"Mm," Merlin hummed, "Bed was mess, got a pin stuck in my thigh, had enough. Wanted to sleep in real bed before going home tomorrow." He remembered his lumpy, full-sized bed in his old room in Ealdor. Here was much more comfortable and significantly less likely to bear embarrassing sheets from his childhood. Hopefully his mother had upgraded the sheets in the least.

Arthur tsked, "A pin? Really?  _Mer_ lin."

"Yeah, yeah, I know...G'night prat," Merlin mumbled.

"Night pincushion." In his sleepy state, Arthur was actually proud at himself for that one.

Merlin rubbed the sore spot on the back of his left thigh, which was now covered in a tiny spaceship-patterned bandaid, and bristled, "Not funny."

"Hilarious," Arthur chuckled.

"Shut up," Merlin returned as sleep started to claim him.

"Fine. Night, Merlin," Arthur said as he drifted off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I don't know who made the thing, but while I was googling spider anatomy, this picture titled "KNOW YOUR ENEMY: Spider Anatomy" popped up and made me laugh. I stole this from that. Have a gander, it's hilarious.
> 
> A/n: I know, horribly out-of-season Halloween fic. Hopefully you guys like it all the same haha. Make sure to leave kudos and/or subscribe if you want to see more! Oh, and please please please drop a comment (about my writing style, the content, the question I'm about to ask you, whatever). I was wondering if you guys wanted to see my horribly out-of-season Christmas fic after this as well, or if I should save it for the actual season.
> 
> I don't know when I will post chapter two, but I'll try to make it soon.
> 
> Next Time: Hunith, the loving mother; Mordred, the adorable Arthur-loathing child; and Will, the terrible shart goblin.
> 
> ~gecko


	2. Ealdor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Hello again. You stayed, how wonderful. Sorry I took so long to get this up. I've been pecking at it since last posting, but well, I won't make any excuses seeing as their legitimacy bled into sheer laziness. I will try to update every Thursday from here on out though!

More than confident enough to traverse the bumpy, mountainous road (even with neglected guard railing along the tightest shoulders), Merlin belted the chorus of  _Piano Man_  with an off-key gusto as he swayed slightly to the beat.

Despite the noise, Arthur didn't stir. If there was anything Merlin had learned about his boyfriend on this trip, it was the fact that he could sleep through  _anything._ Well, Merlin had already known that. After all, he had accidentally spilled water over the slumbering blond's back while reaching for Arthur's untouched, still-full cup. Not to mention the time that Arthur had somehow managed to dangle slightly less than half his body off Merlin's low-set bed frame, and Merlin may have stepped on and tripped over Arthur's limp arm, which sent the brunet careening into his nightstand, nearly breaking yet another lamp. All the racket and not a peep. The fresh bruise that had bubbled its way onto his skin wasn't even enough to rouse him (though Arthur divulged later that in his dream, he was in battle and had been wounded in that particular spot). In fact,  _nothing_ seemed to wake Arthur up. Nothing but that  _damned alarm ringtone that blared like the death throes of a thousand harpies._ It was truly a miracle Merlin had never done anything untoward towards that phone.

As he enthusiastically mumbled his way through another verse of the song, Merlin peered over at his coffee, giving it a brief, albeit longing glance. No, he had to finish this song before indulging in another sip of the now-tepid brew. He had to honor even the instrumental parts with las, das, dis, and dums. Coffee be damned.

After reducing speed, he carefully glided around one of the sharper turns. Merlin's singing reduced to off-melody humming until he safely rounded the bend, at which point he took another look at Arthur. The blond was still fast asleep with his seat reclined as far as Merlin's car would allow with the small suitcases and the costumes in the back vying for valuable space. Arthur managed to make do, even with the snack bag huddled at his feet. Though, admittedly, Arthur had made good use of the spider costume. The stuffed legs seemed to make a rather serviceable pillow and sun shade.

The chorus resumed, and Merlin jumped at the chance to participate in the portion of the song he actually knew. "Sing us a song, you're the piano man! Sing us a song tonight! We're all on the moon for a malady! And you've got us keeling alright!" he bellowed confidently. Why this song was about quarantining ill people on the moon because of some futuristic super-plague, he didn't know. Merlin figured there was nothing better for them to do other than sing, and at least this piano man has a captive audience, he supposed. Unless of course this piano man was  _causing_ the malady. Now  _that_ was a theory!

When the decline of the mountains smoothed into a valley, the song ended, changing to some modern top-40 that the brunet had not heard before. Realizing he was lucky the station signal had traveled this far into the country, he didn't bother changing it. He grabbed his now-cold coffee that was evidently dissociating into its cream and coffee layers and gave it a swirl before downing a few gulps. As he slid it back into the cup holder, Merlin looked outside his passenger window and saw the start of a rather large ranch that ran deeper than it appeared from the road. As per his traditional custom, he greeted the cows and the occasional horse, who were grazing on the lush overgrown grass at the bottom of said mountains.

A few minutes later, he found himself surrounded by the nearly-barren farmland that had probably a month ago contained the entirety of the fall harvest, which had been carefully collected throughout the season. The farms, which Merlin knew were owned by separate people, blended seamlessly into one another until he passed the one with the extraordinarily large, aggressively rusted windmill. This windmill, for as long as Merlin has been alive, never actually performed its duty as it should. No matter the wind strength, it would stand stalwart against it, refusing to pinwheel with its rusted-shut blades. At this point, the young teacher was partially convinced that it had become a performance art piece in its own right (because quite frankly, neglect, lack of funds, and laziness were too boring of reasons).

After passing the windmill, Merlin grabbed his coffee and chugged it while passing the steadfast flats leading to his hometown. Though he tired to avoid its stale twang by skipping past his taste buds, he still managed to taste its rankness in the back of his throat. Grabbing for the mint gum, the brunet finally caught sight of Ealdor, the entrance of which was marked by the threatening (but often unenforced) 30 MPH speed sign. As he obeyed the speed laws regardless, Merlin slowly passed a few small shops and clusters of houses. When he came across someone he knew from school, he rolled down his windows and shouted a few pleasantries while his boyfriend still slumbered soundly.

Despite the slow speed, Merlin reached his mother's home in the matter of minutes and pulled into the patch of gravel beside the house that served as a driveway. Killing the engine, Merlin unbuckled himself and leaned over to shake Arthur awake. "Arthur, come on, we're here. Wake up, Arthur. Dammit," Merlin prodded as he hasted his shakes. "Arthur, you're going to be late for work!" Merlin shouted, only to be answered by a loud snore. "Doesn't snore, my ass," he mumbled before restrategizing. "Arthur, I invited Morgana and Uther over for dinner! They'll be here in ten minutes!"

To the brunet's relief, Arthur startled awake, throwing himself forward only to be thrust back into his seat by his locked seat belt. His eyes flew open and began darting around as he desperately tried to ascertain his surroundings. It was only when Arthur caught sight of Merlin's stupid laughing face that he was able to calm down and stabilize his breathing. "Prick," Arthur mumbled, unbuckling his seat belt and rubbing at his whip-lashed shoulder.

"Hey, I only pulled out the big guns because it was strictly necessary. And don't worry, I can kiss it better later," Merlin said with a brief eyebrow waggle and a toothy grin.

"In your childhood bed?" Arthur asked in a low voice, scandalized.

Merlin laughed, eyes crinkling in fondness at the blond's feigned display. "Trust me, that bed has seen things that would make you blush," Merlin returned, grin still splitting across his face.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's where you  _learned_ the things that make me blush," Arthur returned coolly with a bit of a chuckle. Merlin shot him a look that confirmed his suspicion, and Arthur could feel such thoughts wedging to the forefront of his mind. Oppressing them for later, Arthur looked at what he presumed was Hunith's home. It was a rather small house, covered in quaint, mint wood paneling. Plants and bird feeders festooned the lush yard, which was a myriad of vivid colors. "Bird feeders, huh? Is that how she came up with—"

"Merlin? Yeah, she loves bird watching. A merlin was the last bird she saw before having me, and then when she remembered the legendary wizard, she couldn't resist...I told you how she sobbed with laughter when I told her I was bringing home my boyfriend named Arthur, right?" Merlin interrupted, and Arthur nodded, smiling at the memory. "You're going to love her. Anyway, we should grab our things." Patting Arthur on the chest, Merlin popped the trunk with the fob and they unloaded their small suitcases. They agreed Merlin's costume could be left in the car until it was absolutely necessary.

As Merlin led them to the front door, Arthur's eyes traced over the little decorations that were lovingly nestled between the wild plants and the cordoned-off section that constituted and herb and vegetable garden. He saw a spattering of hand-painted, hand-carved wooden mushrooms that accompanied the actual mushrooms that grew in the yard, a few stone trolls, and some weather-worn gnomes as he approached the three steps to the front door. Before ascending, Merlin warned him to watch his head for the wind chimes.

Both careful to not disrupt the chimes with their heights, Merlin knocked on the wood beside the door, and the couple stood in silence for a few seconds before they heard an energetic run towards the door. The door flung open inward, and before either man could comprehend what was happening, a small child had thrown himself at Merlin, hugging him tightly around the midsection. "Merlin!" the boy shouted.

Arthur looked at Merlin with an inquiring gaze, and Merlin mouthed, "I'll tell you later." Patting the boy's tuft of brunet hair, Merlin greeted, "Hello to you, too, Mordred. Is Hunith home?"

Before Mordred could answer, Hunith entered the picture, scrambling behind Mordred at the door. "Mordred, dear, you shouldn't answer the door..." she began to scold, but stopped as soon as she saw her son.

"Seeee, but it's Merlin. Merlin's not a stranger," the five year old pouted, still clinging to the young schoolteacher.

"Well, I could have been, Mordred. I could have been a big, scary stranger," Merlin lightly chastised, accentuating "big, scary stranger" with a few tickles. The child squealed with laughter, and Merlin gave it a few more seconds before stopping entirely.

Mordred, now free from Merlin's tickling grasp, scuttled behind Hunith with his arms tucked around his sides. He made sure to give Merlin his best "I don't trust you" gaze, but gave it up in favor of a cracked smile.

Merlin took the opportunity to step forward with his arms open wide. "Hello, Mum," he greeted, giving her a hug and a peck on the cheek. "This is Arthur, my boyfriend. Arthur, this is Hunith, my mother."

Arthur smiled and offered his hand. Immediately waving him off, Hunith said, "No no, none of that. Come here." She waved him over, opening her arms for a hug. Arthur happily obliged, and though it was a bit awkward on his part, Arthur was pleased to see where Merlin got his warmness from. After breaking the embrace, Hunith took a step back and gave Arthur the full once-over. "Merlin, dear, he is much more handsome than you said on the phone," she teased, eyes crinkling with that same fond expression Merlin gets when chuffed. Both boys averted their gazes to the floor, and Arthur scratched the back of his neck. Pleased with how much she had embarrassed them, she continued, "Anyway, I can't keep you on that front stoop of mine. Come on in, bring your things, and I'll let Merlin show you up to his old room."

The two boys stepped inside, pulling their luggage behind them. Arthur was not surprised in the slightest to see dozens of small animal figurines (many of which were birds) and a few houseplants decorating the relatively sparse living space. There was an atrocious floral couch that appeared to be incredibly comfortable, and a tired coffee table that seemed to have become Mordred's activity table. After Merlin suggested he return to coloring, and that he'd be back down in a bit, Mordred bounced along and resumed his crayon masterpiece. Much like Merlin's own space, the walls were lined with bookshelves, which served as the home to many read and reread books as well as an abundance of bric-a-brac. In the corner, Hunith had a small television set, an older box model with antennae on the top, with a VHS player nestled on a shelf below it. The entertainment center had rows of various movies all in their cases, children's movies lower where Mordred could reach, as well as a few movie-related figurines and spaceship reproductions next to their associated films.

Though he was pleased that Arthur seemed fascinated by his new cluttered surroundings, Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him from the room. Within the minute, they had trudged up the staircase with their suitcases in hand. Arthur's attention, once again, caught on Hunith's decor choice, which only this time involved the embarrassing photos from Merlin's childhood that hung on the stairway wall. "Merlin, look at you in the bath with the rubber ducky," Arthur crooned, admiring the sheer adorableness of his boyfriend's child self.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Merlin sighed. Those were never going to get taken down, were they? "She's got some really bad ones from a folk dancing festival, too. I bet she'll show you them if you ask. Actually, she'll probably show you them regardless..." the brunet trailed off, wondering if it was possible to somehow be out of the house when that was occurring.

"Oh come on, they can't be that bad," Arthur teased.

Merlin shook his head. "Think about those pictures Morgana emailed me last week." Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Now, think about those pictures Morgana took of you and make it one thousand times worse. Morgana could only dress  _you_ up for so long, and don't forget awful stuffy scratchy traditional attire isn't out of place here." Merlin pulled at his collar as if his old costuming was still itching him. "Now here, mine's the second on the left. The bathroom is the first, and I'm guessing Mordred is staying in the guest room across the hall. My mother's is at the very end on the right side," the brunet said, pointing to each door as he described their contents.

For a second, Arthur gauged the short distance between Merlin's and his mother's room, marveling at his boyfriend's bravery. If his room were as close to his father's as Merlin's was to his mother's, he wouldn't have done half the things he had in his teenage years.

"Okay," Merlin said as he paused in front of his door, hand about to turn the knob. "I cannot guarantee whether or not I have any dorky posters on the wall, nor can I promise there are normal sheets on the bed..."

"Normal sheets?" Arthur asked.

Sighing, Merlin elaborated, "Okay, so it was my senior year of high school and I glued my glue gun to my normal flannel set. Only, instead of telling Mum, I kind of just, you know? Tried to take care of it myself?" He cringed. "And instead of dissolving the glue, I somehow managed to rip a hole in it and bleach it..."

"Wait, wait, wait didn't you glue your glue gun to your pillowcase the other night?" Arthur remembered, holding his laughter.

Rolling his eyes, Merlin opened the door and stepped inside as he continued, "Yeah, yeah, I know. For a teacher, I sure don't learn. Only now I've more than invested in glue solvent. It was just easier to crawl in yours than deal with mine last night. Oh, and if you're brave enough, look under this awful rug. I promise you I don't just glue bedspreads." The brunet kicked at the blue shag rug that covered almost the entirety of his once-white now-taupe carpeting and looked around as if he was forgetting something. "Wait, I didn't finish the story," Merlin realized as he pulled his suitcase to the side of his faux wood desk with a bubbling veneer. "Anyway, so it was my last year at home, and there was no real point in buying me a new flannel set because I was moving out soon anyway. I wound up using my old Star Wars set from when I was eight..."

As Arthur pulled his suitcase behind Merlin's, he watched his boyfriend walk over to his old bed and lift up a colorful scrap quilt. Sure enough, the Star Wars sheets were there, tucked in careful hospital corners. Both man laughed at the well-washed bedding. Merlin threw the quilt back over and proclaimed, "Well, I suppose that answers that question." When Merlin plopped on the edge of his bed, Arthur sidled up beside him.

"So, who was that kid anyway?" the blond asked, leaning back on the heels of his palms.

Merlin looked at his door, which was slightly ajar, and went to close it before sitting back down and explaining. "He's the grandson of one of my mother's friends. He died a while back, but Morgause kept bringing him over..."

"Morgause? As in Morgana's half-sister Morgause?" Arthur interrupted with wide eyes.

Merlin stared back for a second before answering, "I mean, probably, yeah. How many Morgauses are there just floating around? You should ask Morgana about that. Huh. That's weird." He shook his head, contemplating the possibility. "But yeah, she always left him with my mother, and I'm not entirely sure why he's here or for how long...Sort of not really nephew or not, be nice to him though. He's seen a lot, and it's a wonder he's such a good kid."

Arthur nodded. While he had never particularly been good with children, he would never deliberately do something mean. Maybe he'd even get bonus points for calling Morgana? For some reason small children liked her (though Arthur suspected it had a lot to do with the fact that she continually carried "gran candy" in her bag), and Arthur was sure that his sister had met her nephew sometime before? He wasn't sure. She almost never mentioned her exclusive side of the family around him.

Patting Arthur's thigh, the brunet stood, declaring, "Well, we should probably get down there. I can smell the vegetable soup, and she probably wants my help with the bread." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, smiling to himself as he remembered all the years he had made bread from scratch with his mother.

The blond sniffed the air as he stood, and his stomach growled longingly. Merlin smiled at the sound and led him back down the stairs towards the kitchen, where Hunith called them both in as predicted.

Merlin, without missing a beat, grabbed a spare apron off some wooden pegs near the back door and washed his hands. He briefly checked that Mordred was still coloring in the other room before returning. "So Mum, how long do you have Mordred?"

Hunith stopped stirring the post-dinner pudding and looked at both the boys. "I don't know. I legally have him indefinitely, but his mother said he was only leaving him for 'maybe a week' a month ago. I can't contact her either..." Hunith sighed as she looked in the direction of her living room, where Mordred was still presumably coloring. "Don't get me wrong, I love having Mordred here, but don't you think he deserves to know? He misses her. Poor boy."

The brunet gave his mother a sad smile before turning to Arthur and suggesting, "Why don't you go sit down with Mordred while I help Mum with dessert? We can go through the corn maze after dinner before it gets too dark out, alright?"

Arthur, who didn't want to get in the way of their little reunion (and who didn't want to be a victim of Merlin's whipped cream), walked into the living room. "Hello, Mordred," Arthur greeted with an awkward wave as he moved to sit on the floor across the table from the child.

Mordred pointedly ignored him and continued coloring beyond the liberties of the lines in a forest green crayon.

Maybe he hadn't heard him? "That's a nice picture you've got there, Mordred," he complimented, craning up to catch a glimpse of a jack-o-lantern.

When the boy decided to place his crayon back down among the others, Arthur thought he was finally going to get a response, only for Mordred to continue to ignore him as he chose a blue crayon for the pumpkin's spindly vines. Struck into a stunned silence, Arthur did not know what else to say until Mordred finally spoke up, "I don't like you."

Jaw dropping, Arthur gaped like a bubbling fish, completely at a for words. Any attempts at a response died on his lips. He stared at the impetuous child, the picture of innocence, as he continued to color and began to hum, completely tuning the adult's presence out entirely.

"Arthur, Mordred!" Merlin called from the kitchen. "Dinner's done in ten. You both had better wash up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Um, a few things. I based this off a lot of my own road trips into the country (only I KNOW all the words to Piano Man please don't kill me), but I don't know when farming season is. At all, so forgive me if I'm a little off. Please, if you want to see more in a timely manner, favorite and follow, and if you want to give me a little extra motivation, please review!
> 
> Next Time: Merlin drags a reluctant Arthur through the kid's corn maze at dusk just after dinner. Enter the shart goblin, some HORRIBLE puns, and probably a bit more Mordred. It really depends on how long it gets.
> 
> ~gecko


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